Winterbraun had no notion of a warm dawn. In this land, "morning" was just a word, darkness reigned forever, and the blizzards held their throne with the same arrogant pride as always.
The wind's howl carried a biting chill that scraped against the mansion's stone walls, sounding like a long, endless lament, a static symphony woven into the very breath of this place for centuries. Nothing ever changed, even as fate began to shift for those who lived within.
Bastian's footsteps echoed softly down the corridor. The butler's stride was calm yet firm across the marble floor, so light it seemed he barely touched the ground as he moved toward the master chamber.
